


Scars (Shance Highschool AU)

by aiden_pierce



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: I know everyone writes about that but I love to hurt my boys, I promise to make another fic with everyone in it, Lance has an abusive dad, M/M, Minor character deaths (past tense), OC's are background characters, Shiro has a gay brother who's not Keith, Shiro's moms are hella supportive and gay, Some OC's - Freeform, Sorry this is a Lance and Shiro focused story, bi lance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-08 01:23:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14683506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aiden_pierce/pseuds/aiden_pierce
Summary: Lance McClain tries out for the cheerleading squad, at Voltron high school. Surprised to get in to the team, the sixteen year old is dragged into a whirlwind of football, partying, alcohol, and quarterback of the Voltron Lions, Takashi Shirogane. What comes after is unexpected, and Lance will have to learn to find confidence in himself again.All rights reserved for the creators of voltron, Lance and Shiro do not belong to me and I do not take credit for them.





	1. Chapter One

Lance Charles McClain was one hundred and thirty two percent sure that at this exact moment in time, he was going to die. The sixteen year-old sophomore stood at five feet ten inches, and yet he was petrified. Normally he was a very excitable and optimistic person, jumping at the opportunity to meet new people and learn new things. But as he stood still, his hands in his pockets, every ounce of his limited focus trained on keeping his facial expression neutral; he felt his stomach begin to coil in a way that made him want to vomit.

Before him stood the head cheerleader of their highschool, Andrea Smythson and two other cheer team members. They donned their school colors, purple and black, their uniforms form fitting and displaying the school mascot, the Voltron Lions (I know, so original. XD). The white silhouette of a lion sat tall and proud on their purple uniforms and, with mild discomfort, Lance felt its gaze locked firmly to his own.

With a small cough, Andrea brought Lance's attention back to herself, giving him a smile.

"Lance, correct?" She asked, she seemed pleased with the nod the other teen gave her. "Well, Lance. We really did enjoy your routine, I'm impressed with the choreography. Do you think you'll be able to memorize a new one by Friday?"

For a moment or two, Lance continued to stare at the red headed girl blankly, too nervous to make sense of what she was saying. After those few moments however, his blue gaze lit up and he gave Andrea a large smile.

"Wait, seriously?" He asked, his tone steadily becoming more energetic.

"Yes, we'd love to have you on the squad. We lost a few members last year after graduation, and you're very skilled."

"Ah! Thank you so much!" Lance exclaimed, slapping his hands together in front of his face enthusiastically and bowing his head a little.

"Welcome to the Lions then!" Andrea said, smiling brightly. "Now, let's get to business." She paused, pulling out an outfit. "I think you should wear the girls uniform."

"Wait- why?" Lance asked, his eyebrow raising quizzically.

"You really have the hips for it." She giggled.

"Are you sure I won't, I don't know...get beat up?"

"Well I mean...we have a few simple minded students here, but I'm sure you'll be fine. You're too pretty to get hurt. Trust me, we've had other guys do it before and they were fine."

"Alright." Lance smiled nervously, taking the uniform.

Andrea grinned, waving and walking off. "Alright, I have a study hall to get to, I'll email you the choreography for Fridays football game. I promise you won't get beat up!"

"God...I hope so..." Lance whispered, walking the opposite direction and heading to the cafeteria to get lunch.

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Friday, 3:00 pm:

Sender: Lancey Lance

Recipient: Gregory McClain "dad"

Time Sent: 3:00 pm

Message: Hi, dad. I'm going to be late from school, some friends of mine want me to watch a football game with them. I'll be home around 6:30-7.

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Sender: Gregory McClain "dad"

Recipient: Lancey Lance

Time Received: 3:02 pm

Message: Do NOT be late.

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It was now 3:02 pm, on the day of the football game. And Lance was walking back from the changing room, off to the football field to warm up. He was wearing his cheer outfit, which was just the slightest bit too short for his taste; and consisted of a crop top that fell just above his belly button, a short pleated skirt, and a large poofy bow that held back his curly hair.

Beforehand, Lance had applied quite a bit of concealer to his face and body, including a little translucent powder to set it. When asked, he would claim the reason he wore it was to cover his freckles, although no one really knew or understood why he did.

Lance was finally ready to perform in his first team cheer, and was bouncing in excitement, bounding to the football field in his worn down baby blue converse. When he arrived to the field, the brown haired teen was completely awestruck by the magnificence of it all. For a high school field it was quite well taken care of, the paint on the bleachers had barely faded and the grass was bright green, freshly painted, not a single spot of it was dead or sparse.

 

Off in the corner of the field his blue gaze caught sight of the football team, warming up by doing liners and pushups, and things like that. Their coach, to Lance's surprise was a young woman with white hair and beautiful tan skin. And despite her skinny appearance, she looked like she could single handedly bench press someone twice her weight. She was drilling the team, roaring at them with an angelic voice and a fierce look on her face. And Lance thought, that maybe if he wasn't so young that he would try to get a date with her. Maybe in another universe.

Most of the football team looked average, tall, muscled, normal American high school football players. One though, in particular stood out to Lance. He was the same height and build as the others, but somehow different. With a closer look Lance came to the realization that he had white hair, like their coach; but only in a small patch that was longer than the rest. He had a dark scar striped right across the bridge of his nose, and deep brown slanted eyes. The thing that really caught Lance's attention though, was that one of his arms was completely silver.

It glinted in the sunlight with each of his movements, the joints moving with surprising ease. And only two thoughts went through Lance's mind.

What on earth happened to that guy?

How much did that arm cost?

With a cough, Lance focused himself back on his own team, shaking his thoughts out of his head and walking over to the cheer squad. He pulled at the front of his skirt, feeling a little self conscious and trying to lessen the massive amount of skin that he was showing. This for the most part was ineffective and did not console Lance's embarrassment whatsoever. Not only that, but he was exceedingly worried about what other students would think of him, keeping his body slightly hunched over and his head lowered.

After warm ups, Lance was feeling mildly less worried, his lean muscles awake and ready to start cheering. The first half of the game went by with the Voltron Lions leading by two points, and the cheer squad ran out to the middle of the field pumping their fists into the air to the beat of the music. They proceeded to do flips, somersaults, split jumps, pyramids and pirouettes. Lance was completely overwhelmed by their performance, despite the fact that he was very obviously a part of it. He struggled to keep up in the beginning, due to stress; thankful that he was not in the front of the group. By the middle of the routine however, he caught up for the most part, enjoying how exhilarating it was to dance.

After halftime, the game proceed. The third and fourth quarters were far more intense than the first two, resulting in many injuries on both teams. Regardless of their minority Lance felt a familiar pang of dread buzzing at the back of his skull. He clasped his long fingers together, grounding himself with slow deep breaths. He grabbed his plastic blue water bottle, taking several long sips of the cold, clear liquid.

Lance let his blue eyes follow the football player he'd noticed earlier, not surprised when he learned that he was the quarterback. He used his muscles to his advantage, which was saying something, because all the other football players were just as ripped as he was. Despite his size and height, and his expert approach to football; the older teen did not seem like someone who liked to hurt others. Each time he tackled someone, he'd shake their hand after the play, apologizing. And the one time he took someone down too hard, Lance noticed the look of remorse that set across his face and the gentle slope of his shoulders as he walked away.

It was no wonder why the white haired teen was a favorite, he had many fans in the bleachers from what Lance observed. Many of the girls having sprayed a white stripe in their hair or wearing black and white shirts. This gave Lance a little laugh, since the school colors were purple and white, however he supposed it was good to show support for your favorite players. Lance himself had begun to admire the quarterbacks respect for the game, the referees, and the other players. And much to his concern, he had also begun to notice a mild attraction to the other male.

He was of course supportive of the LGBTQ+ community, part of it himself. But factors of his life had caused complications, when it came to expressing his sexuality.

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It was nearing 6:40 and the football game had ended. The Voltron Lions had won the game, 30 to 26. Lance grabbed his things, ready to bolt to the locker room, shower quickly, change, and then walk home; but Andrea stopped him before he could slip away.

"Lance, where are you off to so quickly?" She asked, smiling and grabbing his arm gently.

"I was going home, I told my dad I'd be back by seven." He admitted.

"Oh, I'm sure he won't mind it if you're a little late." She paused, grinning and leaning in to whisper in Lance's ear. "The quarterback, Takashi Shirogane is having a party at his house and he wants you to come!" She pulled away. "So you have to come, okay? What if he wants to take you on a date?" Andrea was beaming, jumping up and down, and Lance would have watched her chest bounce if he wasn't completely petrified.

"What?" He asked, voice wavering.

"The really hot guy with the white hair, he wants you to come to his party. So you're gonna."

"I can't, I promised my dad I'd-"

"Yes, you'd be home by seven. I know. But he can wait." She smiled. "Please, please come. I'm trying to set you up, honey."

"I-...ah fine! It sounds too fun to pass up, but I'm not doing this ever again."

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And that's how Lance ended up in the back seat of Andrea's prius, stuffed between two sweaty jocks for ten minutes, worried that his makeup would smudge and that his father would murder him when he got home.

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Thanks everyone! I hope you enjoyed the hell out of this chapter. I'll try to get the next one to you all soon. :D

P.S: I have another voltron story in the works, called Zombie Boy. Go check it out if you like! <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my gorgeous friends! I wanted to start by saying thank you. Thank you for all the nice comments and support so far. Alright back to the story, goodbye for now!

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Sender: Gregory McClain "dad"

Recipient: Lancey Lance

Time Received: 7:01

Message: Where are you?

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Time Received: 7:05

Message: Lance, come home.

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Time Received: 7:08

Message: You little shit. Get your ass home now.

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Time Received: 7:12

Message: When you get home, I'm going to BEAT you black and blue.

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Lance was removed from the car in quite an unceremonious manner; stumbling out of the Prius after one of the football players, his skirt accidentally tucking itself under his boy shorts for a moment. He pried it free, his face lighting up lightly as he followed behind a small crowd of teenagers, who were all mostly older than himself. These teenagers only consisted of the football team and the cheer squad, and Lance decided that he was lucky to have this opportunity, but worried all the same.

He hadn't checked his phone since the football game ended, but he knew that by now he'd have received many text messages from his father, or Gregory McClain as Lance liked to refer to him. He dreaded the moment he stepped foot inside his house, the doorway of the small mobile home was like the gateway to hell. As soon as he entered, the scent of strong liquor and rotten food would enter his nostrils, and an alcohol bottle would most definitely be flung at his head. Well that is, if Gregory was conscious at the time. But when he woke up...

Lance was brought back from his short existential crisis when Andrea tapped his shoulder. He nodded, when she asked if he was alright, following her inside Takashi's house; which until now Lance had failed to notice how extremely large and expensive it was. He looked up at the large two story home, taking in all the tall windows and architecture. It was very modern looking, and Lance felt envy prick at his insides as soon as he laid eyes on it. The surrounding yard was large and green, the grass was full and so healthy it almost looked artificial, there were several tall and robust trees surrounding the home, and many exotic flowers grew in the dirt.

As soon as Lance stepped inside the house, his senses began to feel slightly overwhelmed. Trendy music was blasting from a pair of very expensive looking speakers, and there were already people beginning to dance. In the far corner of the room, which Lance guessed was the living room; a table sat with an assortment of alcoholic drinks displayed on it. This table Lance decided, was something he was going to stay away from the entire night. Lance had never drunk alcohol before, but his family had an addictive approach to those type of beverages. Not only that, but his mother (who Lance had resembled far more than Gregory) had been a lightweight and normally became intoxicated after one to two drinks. Because of this, when she had been alive she had chosen to avoid drinking alcohol. And Lance had taken this to heart.

Lance made his way over to another corner, feeling out of place and jittery. He remained in that corner for about twenty minutes, and the time was nearing 7:32 when someone finally approached him; although it was not who Lance was expecting. He looked up, startled to see the host of this party looking down at him with a modest smile. The older teen had changed since the party had started and most likely freshened up, due to the fact that he was wearing jeans and a letterman and his hair had been freshly gelled. Lance couldn't help but ogle him slightly, his chest fluttering at the way his deep brown and angled eyes glowed at him from behind long eyelashes. Or the way his cheekbones defined his face, their angle perfectly matching the curvature of his strong eyes.

"How are you liking the party?" Takashi asked, tilting his head lightly with an almost childlike curiosity. Lance found this charming, above all else.

"It's pretty nice..." Lance replied, trying to sound relaxed; startling himself when he found himself internally talking about the way Takashi's voice sounded instead of the party.

"The music isn't too loud, is it?" The older teen asked, sounding concerned by the way Lance flinched lightly at his own words.

"No, it's actually not too loud at all." Lance smiled shyly.

He found himself grinning at the way that Takashi sighed in relief, like he had just come home from a family gathering and was happy to be back. He watched the taller teen's strong eyebrows slant gently upwards, and the way his adams apple bobbed lightly in his throat.

"That's great." Takashi beamed. "I'm Takashi by the way, but you can call me Shiro." He said, sticking his left hand out. Lance was confused by this gesture, because from the way Takashi played football it was clear he was right handed. But eventually, as he reached out and took the teen's hand and shook it, he realized that he was probably doing it to be polite. Some people would be greatly startled to grab someone's hand for a hand shake and feel nothing by ice cold metal. This guy... Lance thought. He's really well mannered, for a football player.

"It's nice to meet you, I'm Lance." Lance replied gently, giving Shiro his best smile. And as he let go of his hand, Lance felt a vibration in his pocket. "Ah- I'm sorry, do you mind?" He asked.

"No, not at all." Shiro smiled.

"Thank you." Lance pulled his phone out, unlocking the screen and grimacing discreetly at the name that displayed on it.

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Sender: Gregory McClain "dad"

Recipient: Lancey Lance

Time Received: 7:35

Message: I swear to gOd Lance! If you don't get homNe within the next thirty minutes, IM GOING TO HOPITALIZEE YOURE ASS.

(and no this isn't supposed to be grammatically correct)

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Lance sighed, shoving his phone back in his pocket; Gregory was drunk off his head and the teen did not want to deal with him. He stretched slightly, popping his joints.

"Sorry about that, my friend wanted to know what I was doing." Lance felt bad about lying, but he didn't want to explain things either. "Do you think I can get a drink?" He asked, suddenly not in the mood for being sober. Lance was nervous of course, but he had become exhausted within seconds and now he couldn't wait to get his hands on something.

"Sure, they're over there. And don't worry about it." Shiro said, pointing to the table in the other corner. "Have you drunk alcohol before?" He asked, a look of concern flooding over his attractive face.

"No, but it's a good time to try it, right?" Lance asked, giving Shiro a reassuring smile, trying to be as honest as he could be.

"Not exactly, but I'll try and make sure nothing happens." The taller teen replied, shrugging. "I'll get you something light."

"Thank you." Lance whispered, watching Shiro walk away, and trying not to swoon at how good his ass looked when he walked. He licked his lips, pulling his phone out and shutting it off and putting it back into his pocket.

Shiro returned, with two cans of what Lance assumed to be beer. He handed one to Lance, giving him a friendly look. "Make sure to take it slow at first, if you don't want to get drunk." He suggested.

"Alright," Lance smiled. "I'll take that to heart." He whispered, turning his gaze to his beer and popping the lid open, hearing an instant and very satisfying fizz when he did so. Lance pressed his lips to the can lightly, taking a small sip and squeezing his eyes shut as he did so. Shiro had told him that it was a light drink, but it was still strong compared to Lance's usual choice in beverage.

He swallowed after letting the beer rest in his mouth for a few moments, reopening his eyes. "It's not too bad actually, I expected it to be more bitter...or gross...or something." This shy comment drew a chuckle from Shiro's lips, and Lance blushed as he watched the corners of his eyes rise warmly.

He took another sip of his drink, now starting to enjoy the taste of the beer. Lance hummed, feeling his insides warm up as he got further and further through the drink, and he'd finished it before he knew it. Shiro had finished his before Lance, going back to grab more drinks. He returned with another beer for Lance and something different for himself, from the darker color the teen assumed it was stronger.

Time flew, and so did Lance's conversation with Shiro. By the time it neared 8:00 Lance had finished his second beer and was feeling something he could only explain as warm. He compared it to lying in the sun on a summer day, or sitting by a fire during winter. He was starting to lose his better judgement, and the way Shiro's muscles flexed as he gestured was not helping. Nor was the way his ass looked so perfect and molded, or how he towered over Lance, or how firm every single part of his body looked and how Lance just wanted to slide his fingers under that skin tight shirt and run his fingers over Shiro's ab-

And suddenly, Lance was too incoherent to stop himself.

He moved closer to the other teen, almost like he was floating; placing his hands on Shiro's chest, feather light. Lance pressed himself to Shiro's chest, sighing at how firm and toned it felt underneath his fingertips. The other teen was startled of course, making a move to grab Lance's wrist gently.

"Hey, I think you've had too much..."

"Mhmmm....no.." Lance whispered, trying to pull his hands free. Despite the lightness of Shiro's grasp, he couldn't free himself and was becoming frazzled. "I just wanna kiss you." He giggled. "You know...play around a little?"

"We probably shouldn't, Lance." Shiro said, taking a step back. "You're cute, definitely cute...but I don't want you to regret things."

"Nah...I won't, I've been looking at youu for awhile now..." Lance said, smiling. "I like it when you do that..." He whispered, staring at the older teen's bicep as he held his arms above his head.

"Do what?" He asked, sounding intrigued but cautious all the same.

"Flex your...biig muscles..." Lance said, giggling and making a kissy face.

"I really think you've had too much." Shiro whispered. "Are you sure you won't regret this? I don't have good self control."

"Mhm...I promise." Lance whispered back, leaning up to press a light kiss to Shiro's lips.


	3. Chapter 3

Lance's mind was losing its mind. His thoughts were all frazzled and it felt like he had a miniature sun in his head. Everything was warm, his cheeks, his ears, his hands, his stomach especially. He didn't know how to explain these feelings he had, and as his lips met Shiro's those feelings expanded blowing up like grenades in the back of his head. Two large hands wrapped around his waist, holding Lance so gingerly and warmly it made him want to cry. And as he had one of his first kisses, Lance felt himself blush for the first time in a long time.

Shiro pulled back slowly, looking down at Lance with those warm brown eyes of his. "Do you want to take this upstairs?" He asked, calm and straightforward; keeping his hands on Lance's waist.

The younger teen couldn't help but nod, so very curious about how this would play out. There were many ends to his fairy tale, and he wanted to read all of them. His young mind could not tolerate the possibility of not knowing, and it craved to know what losing his virginity would feel like. He wanted to feel things, things that someone felt when the person they were with did not want to hurt them, things that he wasn't used to. And they slipped up the stairs together, holding hands, strangely innocent despite the heavy air between them. They didn't speak on the way to Shiro's bedroom, and when they arrived the older teen closed the door, holding Lance tenderly by the shoulders.

This action caused Lance to giggle, resting his head on Shiro's firm chest. His letterman was soft against Lance's cheek, and he closed his eyes a moment taking in the older teen's scent. "Mm...I wanna wear...t-this." He hiccupped, tugging gently on the fabric.

"My letterman?" Shiro asked gently.

"Yup!" Lance grinned childishly, looking up at him and trying to look his cutest.

"You can wear it."

He replied, bending down to kiss Lance's collar bone, which was not covered properly by his cheer uniform. The deepness of Shiro's voice caused shivers to run up Lance's spine, and he closed his eyes sighing as the teen's lips met his skin. His sigh was light and airy, and much more sexual than Lance knew he was capable of. He was extremely pleased with the way Shiro's hands tightened ever so slightly around his waist and how he let out a hot breath in Lance's ear in reaction. Lance felt Shiro's hands slide up his body slowly and gently, the contrast between the two appendages' temperatures causing goosebumps to form all over his tan skin.

As Lance's shirt fell to the carpeted floor Lance discovered an onslaught of new sensations. The smell of Shiro's shampoo, the friction he felt when his callused left hand ran across Lance's hip, the smooth cold metallic feeling of his right hand on Lance's face, how warm his lips felt. Lance's skirt joined his shirt on the floor, and his underwear hung from his ankle when Shiro carried him to the bed. Looking very disheveled, he watched as the older teen unbuttoned his letterman, handing it to Lance and looking at him hungrily. With a bubbly excitement flowing through his veins, the younger teen slipped the jacket onto his arms and shoulders, swallowed in the soft clean smelling material.

Lance's eyes wandered over Shiro's chest, abs, and arms as he pulled off his own shirt, letting it fall to the floor in a separate pile. He caught sight of Lance's bashful smirk, humming as he unbuttoned his jeans and undid the zipper.

"What is it?"

"...you look so gooood, I wanna...mh.." Lance laughed, breaking off into a series of drunken giggles.

"You look really good yourself, sunshine." Shiro whispered, letting his jeans fall to his ankles and stepping out of them. He went to his bedside dresser, opening the second drawer down, and pulling out a small plastic wrapper and a bottle of lubricant.

Lance felt his legs shake in anticipation when he saw the two items in Shiro's hands; lying flat against the mattress, his arms relaxed at the sides of his head. He observed curiously as Shiro slid his boxers down, gulping at the size of the older teen's penis. Lance bit his lower lip, watching him tear open the condom wrapper and calmly apply it to himself. He knelt down above Lance, kissing his inner thigh lightly.

"This might be cold for a few seconds."

He warned, pouring some lube onto his fingers and gently prodding at Lance's entrance with one of them. Goosebumps reappeared on his skin, and Lance closed his eyes trying to keep the nervousness down that was growing in his belly. Slowly Shiro eased a finger into Lance's anal cavity, working in and out gently until the teen was less tense. This cautious process continued until Lance was moaning and whining, lying on the bed; his body begging for more contact, more satisfaction. He could only imagine how Shiro felt having to wait so long, not touched yet, fully erect.

The night faded into ecstasy as Lance pleaded for Shiro to push him into the bed, hold his hips and just fuck him until semen dripped down his thighs and he was in pleasured tears. The older teen complied, treating the tan teenager like a goddess as he kissed constellations all over his body, thrusting into him at a slow and gentle pace, picking up momentum until they were both moaning and sighing each others names. Lance's mind melted more with each moment, each sentence that was whispered into his ear, was blissful and comforting. And as the two of them found their releases, in the darkness of Shiro's bedroom and the warmth of eachothers arms, they fell to the mattress together, panting and whispering nonsense as they fell asleep, curled up together under half arranged sheets.

They couldn't worry less about how tomorrow would unfold, only concerned with the scent of their passion in the air, and the taste of one another on each others lips.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a late update! This chapter is pretty violent so heads up!

Lance awoke in a reluctant fashion. His limbs heavy and almost useless as he sat up, pushing up on weak elbows and shaky palms. The sunlight that crept through the shutters as he opened his eyes, made his stomach coil; and he instantly wished he hadn’t woken up. His body was warm and clammy, Lance’s tan skin now adorning more bruises than usual; these ones however were placed with care, lacking malicious intent.

A warm hand on his inner thigh brought Lance’s attention to the second occupant of this bed. He looked down in amazement, at the perfect, handsome, bundle of sleeping football player he had somehow managed to seduce last night. The older teen was lying on his stomach, face half buried in a pillow, his lower half hidden by the comforter; his mouth parted as he snored lightly, perfect lips swollen from last night.

Lance looked down, looking over himself; feeling giddy as he realized he was still wearing Shiro’s letterman. There were small hickeys between Lance’s thighs, blossoming on his tan skin; causing them although naturally plump, to swell ever so slightly. Lance’s eyes were then drawn to his other bruises, causing an underlying sense of nausea to overwhelm him as he thought about how he had received them. The dark contusions spread over his upper arms and ribs, along with cuts, scrapes, and scars on his wrists and thighs. An especially prominent scar ran across his left hip, from an encounter he’d rather forget forever.

Then suddenly, the nausea and hangover became too much for Lance; and he tumbled out of bed, reaching the trash can in a feat he could only describe as a miracle. Emptying the contents of his stomach into a black plastic container, filled with paper, pencil shavings and...a condom wrapper. 

He propped himself up on weak elbows, gasping for breath and averting his eyes from the mess he’d made. Lance was terrified, realizing how long ago it had been since he’d been home; and thinking about how angry Gregory would be with him. He didn’t have time to think about it any longer though, as he heard a groggy and concerned voice over the sound of his rapid breaths.

“...Lance?” Shiro’s voice was low and gravely with concern, and Lance felt a large gentle hand on his shoulder blade.

Lance jumped in his skin, freezing for a moment before turning around slowly, eyes wide and dilated. His tongue was heavy in his mouth as he tried to gather his thoughts, arms shaking underneath him. That’s when Lance remembered that Shiro had no idea about his personal life, and that it was time to fake the aftermath of a night of drinking and sex.

“Morning handsome.” He whispered, voice shaky.

“Good morning...you alright?” Shiro asked, raising an eyebrow, his under eyes a little baggy from being up late.

“I’m totally fine, big guy. How are all those muscles?” Lance asked, making his voice smooth as honey and wiping his mouth on his skirt, which was lying on the floor, crawling back into bed and running his finger along Shiro’s chest.

“They’re good?” He replied, looking slightly confused and rubbing his eyes with the back of his palm. “You look kinda...roughed up there.” He added after a moment of thought, and his words sent Lance into a downward spiral of inner turmoil and panic.

“Oh, I’m fine! I guess we got a little rough last night.~” Lance joked, covering up with a blanket, only just now remembering the bruises and scars that littered his skin. He sincerely hoped that Shiro was at least buzzed enough to have forgotten how unnaturally gentle he’d been last night.

“I didn’t think I’d get like that...I’m sorry.” He said, frowning and running his fingers through his hair. The football player looked really ruffled and guilty, and suddenly Lance felt terrible.

“No! It’s totally okay, I’ve always liked it rough anyway.” The younger said with a wink, poking Shiro’s nose. He felt his heart throb softly inside his ribcage at the older teens reaction; which was a small snort, biting his lip and lying down for a second. He actually had a terrible headache, and his stomach was upset, not only that but he felt like a complete mess. “Hey…” When Lance spoke his voice was barely a whisper.

“Yes?”

“Can I use your shower?”

“Go ahead..” 

Lance sat up slowly, feeling another wave of nausea pass over him, making his tongue feel cold and heavy within his mouth. “Thanks handsome.” He whispered, slipping out of the bedsheets wincing at the slow agonizing pain that crept over his body as he got up. He let his eyes roam over his body frowning at the marks that ‘Shiro’ had left on his skin. Lance hated them, the bruises, the scars, the burns, they littered his body like garbage. Body garbage. His body was a dump.

He didn’t hear Shiro’s reply, walking out of the room and going to the bathroom to take a shower. It was so unusually clean to him, everything was organized and wholesome, a smooth granite counter, a deep sink with a silver faucet, white tile floors, grey walls. The shower was tall, much taller than a normal shower, and for once when Lance stepped into it, the water fell several inchest before it hit his skin. The walls of the shower were made of the same white tile as the floor, and there were two shower heads one on the ceiling and one on the wall, and they were frighteningly quiet when they spat water out of their mouths.

The silence really gave Lance time to think, and he hated it. He thought about his abusive father, who was probably raging at home, getting ready to beat Lance black and blue (hah see what I did there) as soon as he stepped through the front door. And, Lance thought about his dead mother; her kind brown eyes and short frame, her comforting hugs and familiar scent, her smooth kind voice, and the way she would sometimes whisper into his ear when she helped him to bed. When he was bruised and bleeding, and his eyes were red from salty tears, and how she was in equally bad shape, but would hold herself together for her only son. How she would softly say to him: “Mi querido hijo, las cosas mejorarán...será mejor.”

(My dear son, things will get better...it will get better.)

Lance couldn’t help but think that maybe things had gotten better, for her. She was off in heaven, with the angels and the good people of the world, young souls, warm kind people like herself. But...he was down here, living in the ruins of a damned childhood, with his devil of a father.

“Oh mama...why couldn’t you take me with you?” He asked forlornly, wiping his eyes and rinsing the soap off of his body. Lance stepped out of the shower, taking a purple towel out of the cabinet and drying himself off. His makeup had worn off, revealing the fading bruises on his face; the most prominent one being the one lying on his cheekbone. But, luckily it wasn’t nearly as dark as it had been.

Lance left the bathroom, glad that his hangover was diminishing as fast as it had appeared. When he entered Shiro’s bedroom the older teen was sporting a pair of sweatpants, sitting on his bed with his phone.

“H-hey, sorry to ask this but do you have clothes that I can borrow? I’d rather not walk home in a cheer skirt.” He said softly, his voice picking up it’s normal cheeriness as Shiro looked up to meet his eyes.

“Oh, yeah no problem. You can just give them back to me at the next game.” Lance tugged his towel up a bit further, giving a thankful hum as Shiro got up to grab him some clothes. “Here’s a t-shirt and some joggers, they have a stretchy waistband so you can tighten them.” He handed the articles of clothing to Lance, giving him a polite smile.

“Thanks hun.” Lance said sweetly, leaving to change and meeting Shiro downstairs by the front door.

“So uhm that was like really great.” He whispered, giving Shiro a grin. “See you at school maybe?”

“Yeah, I’ll look forward to it. Come by at lunch sometime.”

Lance wished he’d never left Shiro’s house, because his arrival home was anything but tranquil.

 

Lance walked up the steps to his mobile home, barely glancing at the dead grass and weeds in his lawn, not thinking twice about the shattered glass on the stairs. He was far more concerned about what would happen once he walked through that door, it was like the portal to hell. He lingered outside on the porch, teetering on the edge between two options: going inside or running away and living homeless. But...those options weren’t much to work with and honestly, he couldn’t determine which would be worse. So, Lance put his chin up clutched his cheer uniform tightly in his hand and walked through the door; praying to god that he’d be safe for now.

And it seemed like for the moment, he had found solace. Gregory lay unconscious on the couch, a nearly empty bottle of vodka hanging loosely in his hand. The T.V. was on and displaying a very indiscreet pornographic video, the volume was nearly too loud to be considered polite. Lance grabbed the remote which was lying strewn across the room and turned the volume down. He’d take the opportunity to relax a little, while Gregory was sleeping. Lance hoped that maybe he’d stay out for a few hours longer than usual. That would be a godsend…

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Hours passed, and to Lance’s astonishment Gregory still hadn’t woken up. It was now close to six pm, and Lance had had plenty of time to make himself a meal and clean up his room; which had nearly been trashed beyond recognition. He was beyond glad that he hadn’t had to face Gregory yet, but he could feel the adrenaline in his veins telling him that this time it would be bad...very bad. And suddenly…

The clink of a glass bottle behind him, the characteristic lurching rattle of the bottle rolling around on the cheap pine flooring of their mobile home. Lance turned around with a pained expression of apprehension painted across his face, to see Gregory sway to his feet, eyes unfocused and drowsy.

“You, pathetic...sniveling...BITCH!” Gregory slurred, pointing at Lance with a wavering finger.

“G-Gregory, I-I’m sorry I stayed out late, I know I shouldn’t have-” Lance let out a distressed shout as he was hit hard across the face with the T.V. remote, clutching his left cheekbone in his hand and backing away. “I’m s-sorry…”

“You fucking DARE to defy me? Dare to talk back!? You slutty little…” Another strike aimed toward the face, only avoided through sheer luck and a sharp turn to the right, which resulted in a stinging blow to the bone of Lance’s shoulder.

 

“N-no! I didn’t talk back- p-please! I’m sorry-” Lance flinched, ducking just in time as a half empty bottle was flung at the wall just above his head, shattering to pieces and dusting his hair and shoulders like lacerating snow, strong liquor bleeding into his eyes and mouth. He gasped painfully, inhaling the potent liquid and coughing as he crouched down, curling in on himself and groaning at the stinging sensation of tiny shards of glass biting into his skin.

“Don’t fucking talk BRAT! Get your ass up, let me hit you proper!” Gregory yanked Lance to his feet, reeling as he brought his hand back and punched Lance hard in the ribs, causing the boy’s lithe body to collide with the hollow wall behind him.

He slipped away, panting and making a run for it, screaming as he was grabbed roughly by the arm and pushed backwards into the coffee table lying in the center of the room. Lance gave a cry of desperate pain, feeling the ulna of his left arm snap clean in two as it collided with the tables hard wooden edge.

Sliding to the floor hopelessly, Lance peered up at Gregory’s bitter expression. “I can’t believe I raised a whining little bitch like you, if your whore of a mother was here she’d be so disappointed.”

“D-don’t! Don’t talk about her like that you fuck!” Lance yelled, slamming his right fist into the floor beneath him. “Vete a la mierda, bastardo abusivo!”

“Pequeño pinchazo, ¡te mataré!” Gregory bellowed, throwing himself at Lance.

The teen rolled out of the way just in time, moaning in pain as he got to his feet, running out of the door in a panicked stumble. Lance pushed his way past the ripped screen door, tripping down the steps and running down the sidewalk quickly. Lance stumbled, his legs shaking, tears streaming down his freckled face as he tried to ignore the angered yells behind him. Hearing something shatter behind him, he held his wrist tightly as he ran. He ran for a long while, not caring if he was within a safe distance. It is only after his lungs were burning, that he slowed down. 

He stopped to think, now far enough that he knew Gregory wouldn’t follow him now. Lance looked around him quickly, eyes wide and blurry with tears. He couldn’t go to his friends house because they were on a trip for the weekend, but he didn’t know where to turn.

“Mierda..” He cursed, biting back a sob. “I’m sorry Shiro…” He whispered, limping down the street that lead to the older teens mansion. “Y-you’re the only one I can turn to…”


End file.
